


Zev

by elaine



Series: Five Ways Jim and Blair Never Met in Past Lives [2]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Alternate Universes, Drama, First Times, M/M, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-09
Updated: 2006-02-09
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:13:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elaine/pseuds/elaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elis of Sparta find himself strangely attracted to his new slave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zev

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Timian, who persuaded me not to post a shorter version of this story as a dream sequence. i expanded and revised the story and as a result i'm much happier with it.
> 
> There are historical notes at the end, if anyone's interested.

 

The little Hebrew slave flinched, once, as Elis withdrew from him, and that, coupled with the memory of how good, how tight he'd been, confirmed his suspicion that the young man was a virgin to men. Certainly not to women - even Elis had heard the slave quarters' gossip about the randy little heathen. No doubt there'd be a crop of curly headed babies in nine months or so.

With that clarity which sometimes came to him unbidden, Elis scented the air and found no hint of blood, only good male musk and sweat and... salt. Tears? He scanned the smooth back and saw a minute shake of wide, pale shoulders. The slave was trying valiantly to hide it, but rank distress was rapidly replacing the healthy scent of arousal.

A slave had no right to object should his master decide to bed him, yet Elis made it a practice not to take unwilling partners. Doing so gave him none of the pleasure he'd seen others take in such games. The Hebrew had given no indication of reluctance - nor any sign of desiring such sport, Elis' inconvenient conscience belatedly reminded him.

He moved away from the wide bed, absently snatching up a towel to wipe himself with. He should go away; allow the slave to pull himself together and leave in his own time. It was what  _he_  would prefer in this situation. However, something about the forlorn figure - perhaps it was the bowed head with the ridiculous long curls veiling his face - called to Elis, demanding that he remain and repair the damage he had wrought.

His chiton lay where he'd discarded it, next to the slave's; he pulled it over his head and pulled his belt tight around his waist before returning to the bed. He perched on the edge, carefully not touching the naked flesh of his slave. "Did I hurt you?"

"No." A tiny shake of the head reinforced the message. Then the compact body squirmed a little. "Well, not much." His voice, as Elis had noticed on previous occasions, was beautiful; rich, and deeper than he would have expected, with a faint roughness, like fine linen threads catching on the skin of his fingers. This time, the effect was accentuated by distress.

Elis' temper snapped under the weight of unaccustomed guilt. "Why in Hades didn't you tell me you were unwilling?"

The slave's shoulders tensed. "Sooner or later it would have happened, and you seemed... I thought, better with you than with some others."

It confirmed a suspicion he'd long held about Demos. It didn't explain why that old lecher had chosen to buy such an oddity as this - short , hairy, Hebrew and - horrifying thought to any decent Greek - circumcised. Nor why Demos had allowed the little heathen to retain the long curls that were common among his barbaric race and exceedingly rare in civilised society. At least the old fool's laxity had not extended to allowing the slave to retain his native garb.

"So, I was to be the sacrificial altar for your virginity." He sighed sharply as the slave began to tremble and the scent of salt tears burned his nostrils. Hera save him from reluctant virgins! "Well? Was it so terrible?"

"You don't...:" the slave choked on a sob and struggled for a moment before continuing, "my people... the law..." his voice took on a singsong quality, almost chanting. " _If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall be put to death; their blood is upon them_."

Unbelieving for a moment, Elis stared at the shaking back, then hurriedly stood as the meaning of the stuttered words sank in. Revulsion flooded him, and he nearly left the room to find Demos and order him to throw the hairy little heathen out onto the dung heap; but once again, the desolate slump of those smooth shoulders prevented him.

He thought, and was surprised at the return of a long forgotten memory, of the small mongrel he'd rescued from the agora one day. His father had been in a mellow mood - a rarity, that - and accepted his ludicrous claim that he would train it to be a fine hunting dog. The little cur had followed him faithfully for most of a year, until a rabid wild dog had bitten it on one of their "hunting" expeditions. His father had made him cut its throat when the first signs of the disease showed, and Elis had never adopted a stray again. It had been an object lesson nearly thirty years old that it seemed he was in need of learning all over again.

Elis sighed deeply and, as he was only a step or two from the door, called for food, wine and bathing water to be brought to him. He couldn't leave even this heathen slave in such distress, however barbaric his beliefs might be.

The slave's tremors were turning to sustained shivering, even though it was hardly cold. Elis had seen this before when the heat of battle faded and a man was left with unwelcome reflections of his own mortality to ponder. He supposed this was not so different. He pulled a folded blanket from the wooden chest in the corner and laid it over the sturdy figure.

"What's your name, boy? I like to know who I'm raping." The bitterness in his voice surprised him, and wrenched a smothered gasp from behind the veil of hair.

"You didn't... I mean..." Finally the dark curls slid aside as the slave's head came up and turned to Elis for the first time. He was stuck again by the smoky blue of the youth's eyes. He'd never seen eyes of such a colour, though he'd heard of blue-eyed barbarians in the far north. "It's Zev. It means wolf in my language."

He almost laughed aloud. "Huh. You being such a fierce creature."

"No, but my people believe that if you give a child a name like... say Dov - a bear - it will imbue him with strength. A wolf is wise, and a teacher." A faint smile touched the full lips. "Not that I claim to be either of those things."

"You're hairy enough." Elis spoke idly, relieved that Zev had at least stopped crying. To his surprise the slave blushed deeply and looked away. "I'm not saying it's unattractive..." and that probably didn't help matters, considering. He was saved from further clumsy attempts at comfort by the entrance of a trio of slaves bringing the supplies he'd requested. "Just put them on the table and leave."

When they were alone again, he fetched a goblet of wine - rough and very strong, he would normally have diluted it by half with water, but this time added just a splash - and a small platter of food. Zev watched expressionlessly as he returned to the bed. "Well, sit up, or you'll probably spill it and I don't want my bed reeking of wine."

Zev sat up, pulling the blanket closer about himself, and reached out a shaking hand for the goblet. Elis steadied him as he took the first few sips, then held out the food. There was goat cheese, half a loaf of barley bread, along with olives, figs and dates. He munched one of the figs as Zev chewed slowly on a scrap of bread, and wondered about the enigma that was his most recent possession.

He might be a barbarian, but he spoke Greek flawlessly, and seemed to understand their ways well enough. How he'd managed to stay a virgin so long - he must be in his twenties at least - was a mystery; surely Elis was not the only man in Sparta to find his unusual looks attractive.

"So... uh... tell me how you came to be here... in Sparta, I mean." Elis smiled encouragingly.

"Oh. Well... it's complicated. My mother was a concubine, but when I was born...  and had blue eyes... her husband decided she must have... you know." Zev made a vaguely obscene gesture with one hand. "So he sold us both as slaves."

It wasn't an entirely unknown situation. Elis had never really been sure what had happened to his own mother, for that matter. She had simply disappeared one day and his father had never referred to her again. He nodded understandingly.

"But our law states that you can only keep a slave for six years and then you have to free them. He didn't want that, so he sold us to a  _goy_  - a non-believer." Zev glanced at him apologetically and Elis wondered if that wasn't a polite euphemism for something much worse. "His name was Aristhenes. He was a scholar, and he loved my mother, and he treated me almost like a son. He let us follow our beliefs, but he allowed me to study whatever I wanted, and we all travelled... everywhere you could imagine. I've even seen the pyramids and the Sphinx."

All Elis knew was that a pyramid was a shape. Whatever a Sphinx was, he had no idea and didn't particularly care. "I take it Aristhenes is dead?"

Zev's face clouded and he nodded. "Two months ago. He was old and became sick. Aristhenes' cousin took us. My mother and I were separated. She was sold to an Athenian, and I was brought here."

"I'm sorry." Seeing that Zev had finished eating, he took the food and wine back to the table and brought the pitcher of water back, along with a towel. "Lie down now. I need to check you out."

Zev cast a nervous glance in his direction, but obeyed in silence. But when Elis pulled the blanket away from his body, he began to shake. "I'm not going to hurt you, just clean you up a bit."

He dipped the end of the towel into the water and wiped down Zev's back and over his buttocks. When he parted the firm buttocks, the slave shuddered uncontrollably, and Elis took only enough time to ensure that there was no physical damage before rolling the young man onto his back. The shaking intensified, though Zev made not the slightest sound. Elis washed the dried semen away - a task not made any easier by the density of the body hair that liberally covered him - and finished with a quick swipe across the softly stirring genitals.

A sound something like a smothered sob sent a shaft of mingled irritation and guilt through Elis' gut. A part of him wanted to remind the slave he could have fared a lot worse; it struggled desperately with the part that wanted to offer whatever comfort he could.

"Look, I'm sorry about the... you know..." he gritted his teeth. Just the thought of saying the word made him feel sick. "The abomination thing. If I'd known..."

Zev gave a strangled cry and rolled away, curling up into a ball of concentrated misery.

"Please... Zev..." he touched Zev's shoulder lightly. "It's not your fault."

"But it  _is_..." the despairing groan went right to Elis' heart. "I thought... I knew it would happen, eventually, but I thought if I didn't  _want_  it, if I  _had_  to do it, then it wouldn't be...  _wrong_. Not  _so_  wrong. That I wouldn't be betraying my faith, my God, my people."

"You haven't. I'll take full responsibility for it, all right?" He rubbed the heaving shoulder consolingly. "Whatever punishment your god brings down, I'll take it. It's my fault." An easy offer to make. He'd long ago given up any belief in the gods' retribution.

"You don't understand." Zev turned to face him, tears streaming from swollen, desperate eyes. "I... I wanted it. From the moment you touched me, I  _wanted_  it."

Elis had spent half his life at war, one of many pawns in the unending squabbling and rivalry with the Athenians, the Delosians, and Elis, the city-state for which - gods only knew why - he had been named. He'd seen more than his share of the kind of despair that came from having lost everything worth having. He saw it now in Zev's bitter grief. Without a moment's hesitation, he pulled the slave up into his arms and held him until the quiet sobs ceased.

It felt comfortable to hold Zev in his arms. Elis had long been inclined to take his pleasure where he might and not look to any emotional entanglements; yet, from the moment he'd first set eyes on the Hebrew, he'd felt the tug of more than simple lust. As Zev relaxed into exhausted silence, Elis allowed all his guards to drop. He rested his head against the silky tumble of curls and breathed in the mingled scents of oil and sweat and semen, of desire and despair. It came as no real surprise when Zev lifted his head and stared up into his eyes.

"Please... sir, please..."

He interrupted the stammering whisper. "My name is Elis. Call me by my name."

"Elis." The ghost of a smile lifted the corners of Zev's mouth. "Please, will you... do that again?"

The blue eyes were still full of tears, and Elis gently brushed more moisture away from Zev's cheeks. "I'll do it, and more. Much more." He sealed the promise with a kiss, sweet and slow and deep.

He eased the compliant body down onto the bed and peeled away the blanket to look his fill. He'd never bedded anyone so hairy, most of his compatriots were either as smooth as he was, or they removed their body hair by shaving or plucking. That was hardly an option for Zev, he had to concede. Elis brushed his hand lightly over the denser hair in the centre of Zev's chest and smiled as it tickled his palm.

The blue eyes never left Elis' face, but they widened suddenly when Elis laid his hand over the curve of his ribs. He bent down to kiss the slave again, giving him time to accustom himself to the large, solid hand of a man; so different to the more delicate touch of a woman. So much better.

Zev was a good kisser. No doubt he'd had plenty of practice with the girls in the slave quarters. He responded with languorous ease to Elis' equally skilful mouth and his body slowly relaxed as Elis did no more than stroke gently over his shoulder, his arm, his side.

When he began to make small, appreciative sounds against Elis' lips, it was time to introduce him to new pleasures. Trailing soft, sweet kisses over stubble roughened cheeks, Elis nibbled gently on a pierced earlobe and thought vaguely of buying something - a silver hoop, perhaps - to replace whatever had been taken from the young man. He dismissed the thought to the back of his mind for later consideration - right now, he had an infinitely more pleasurable gift to bestow.

His caressing hand moved upward, fingertips brushing over a nipple, which peaked eagerly at his touch. Zev groaned softly, the sound even rougher in arousal than it had been in distress.

"Do you like this?" An unnecessary question, but it pleased Elis to hear the fervent assent. Judging by the slave's responses, none of his tumbles had ever had the skill, or taken the time to explore his body the way Elis was doing now. He had a momentary vision of Zev sucking a tit, or fondling between a woman's thighs; ploughing enthusiastically into her depths without ever thinking to find the pleasure spots of his own body, save the most obvious one.

Elis took the peaked nipple between his teeth, gently teasing and sucking until Zev arched up beneath him, wordlessly begging for more. He would teach the little barbarian that the truest, noblest love was that of a man for a man, and be damned to his outlandish law.

Reluctantly, Elis drew back. He unfastened his belt and pulled his chiton off, tossing it aside with unwonted carelessness, then leaned back, supporting himself on one elbow; watching Zev. Last time, Zev had averted his eyes, but now he looked his fill, eyes travelling over Elis' body, lingering shyly over his erect cock before returning to his face.

"Do I please you?" His voice was unexpectedly hesitant. It was, after all, a matter of no importance what a slave should think of his master. Yet somehow it  _was_  important.

"Yes. I..." Zev flushed, his eyes going back to Elis' cock, "I'd like... may I touch you?"

"Give me your hand." Elis held out his own and took Zev's only slightly smaller hand, drawing it down to press against his cock.

Immediately the sure fingers wrapped around him, and he moved the hand over his cock, guiding Zev until he became accustomed to the differences in handling another man's cock. He was good - quick to learn, and obviously well versed in pleasuring himself in this way.

Elis sighed deeply; it had been too long since he'd taken a lover rather than sating his needs with whatever slave happened to catch his eye. That he was thinking of Zev in this way should have alarmed him, and yet he found the prospect an attractive one. Already, the strangeness of Zev's appearance seemed less important, more exotic than outlandish.

All Zev's concentration was on his handiwork, and the dark head was bowed as he watched his hand stroking Elis' cock. It was time for some more advanced studies, Elis decided with a hint of amusement. But the slave had already anticipated his needs, brushing his long fingers over Elis' foreskin and hesitantly sliding it back, then forward again, over his cockhead. The slight awkwardness of the movement evaporated after a few tries, and Zev looked up, his cheeks flushed and grinning triumphantly.

"That's good. Very good." Elis brushed his fingertips over Zev's cheek and leaned forward for a kiss. "Lie down, now."

They stretched out side by side, and Elis reached out to touch the slave's cock. It was, not surprisingly, fully erect and slick-tipped with arousal, but so strangely bare with no foreskin that Elis hesitated. "Does it hurt?"

"No. Why should it?" Zev seemed honestly surprised at the question.

He didn't answer, but lightly touched the thick shaft. The skin was much tighter than on his own cock, otherwise it didn't seem so different, but he still flinched from touching anywhere near the circumcision. His mind revolted at the thought of a race which would mutilate its boy children at birth in such a way.

"It's all right, honestly." Boldly, Zev caught hold of his hand and moved it in a long stroke right to the very tip of his cock. "See?"

Abandoning his hesitation, Elis kissed the full inviting lips and thought of other things he would like to do with them. That, perhaps, should wait for another day, but there was no reason not to indulge himself. He slid his tongue over the lower lip and nibbled it gently. "Have you ever been sucked?"

The hitch in Zev's breathing was answer enough, but Elis waited for him to shake his head. "Would you like me to?"

He was already moving before the fervent "oh, yes!" was uttered. Close up, he could see the scar from the circumcision. He licked it gently and heard Zev gasp. Finally reassured, he began to kiss and lick along the shaft, teasing with little flicks of his tongue and inhaling the wonderfully earthy scent of his slave. Twice, he made his way to the sensitive notch beneath the cockhead, only to reverse his course back to the root. The third time, with no warning, he took the tip into his mouth and sucked firmly.

Zev sobbed aloud, and his hand tightened around Elis' cock, momentarily losing the rhythm of his stroking. His other hand came up to rest on Elis' cropped hair, restlessly petting in lieu of daring to direct his master's movements. As Elis took his cock deeper, sucked more demandingly, even this hesitation was lost. The firm grip on the back of his head held Elis in place as Zev's hips began to thrust, and he grinned to himself as he fondled the heavy balls and that magical spot behind them.

A volley of gasps and moans tumbled from Zev's lips culminating in a long wail as his juices filled Elis' mouth. He continued to suck, swallowing as best he could, until the last tiny spurt was done, then he released the softened cock and carefully licked away what had escaped his lips.

When he looked up, Zev was watching him, looking lazy and sated with his flushed, sweaty cheeks and heavy lidded eyes. His mouth was swollen with kisses and lax with pleasure, and Elis' cock throbbed with the need to be between those lips. It would have to await another day though, Elis decided. He would enjoy educating this little barbarian, and there was no need to rush.

Instead, Elis gently nudged Zev's sprawled legs a little further apart and laid himself between them, his cock resting in the crease of Zev's groin. He kissed Zev deeply as he began to rock into that moist crevice; the feel of soft coarse hair and smooth, sweat slick skin against his cock made him gasp and reach desperately for whatever control remained to him. It was a vain attempt, made even more hopeless when Zev's thighs enfolded him in a firm grip. He shouted, pleasure and frustration combined, as his cock pulsed forcefully scalding his skin with his seed.

* * *

It was dark outside when Elis finally allowed him to leave. Zev donned his chiton hurriedly and slipped downstairs and across the courtyard to the slave quarters. The others were all asleep of course. In this Spartan household the slaves - even the master - rose before dawn to be about their day's work. He tried to creep between the sleeping bodies without disturbing them, but managed to trip over Agathon's feet and the boy woke, grumbling for a moment before falling asleep again.

He finally reached his own small corner of the room and was pleased to see that his blanket was still there. Now that he was away from his master, reaction to what had happened - his 'deflowering' he thought and nearly giggled hysterically - was really starting to set in. He couldn't stop shivering, and instead of removing his chiton, lay down in it and wrapped the blanket around him.

A sleepy murmur from his right announced that Metea had also woken. She wriggled closer to him and laid a warm arm across his shoulders. "So, my little Ganymede, did our master please you?"

Zev couldn't restrain another shiver, this time mingled with a sharp pang of remembered pleasure. "He was... kind." For the life of him, he could say no more. It would have amused his mother to see him so tongue-tied.

"Well, now that he's had your arse, you'd better watch out. Demos will want to share in your favours." She made a disgusted 'tchah' sound while Zev's marrow seemed to freeze within his bones. "Thank the gods I'm too old for that one to slobber over."

He lay awake for a long time, trying not to imagine Demo's hands touching him.

* * *

It was two days before Demos ordered Zev to attend him in his office. Two days in which he saw nothing of Elis, though he knew his master was at home and not gone to the city as he often was. Whatever thoughts he'd harboured of Elis' interest in him withered under this evidence of indifference.

He went without protest, trying not to notice the sympathetic looks the others were giving him. It was one thing to resign oneself to the unfamiliar attentions of a man like Elis - tall, handsome and with a stern but kindly dignity. Demos was a different proposition altogether.

Zev had always thought of himself as an educated and intelligent man, but now he was revising that assessment. How else could he explain the naivety of his belief that Demos simply wasn't interested in him? The old lecher would fuck the goats if he couldn't get his fill of the slaves. And probably boast about it after. He should have known that Demos had only been waiting for his master's leavings.

Still, there was no recourse for him, not even to throw himself on Elis' mercy, because surely his master knew what Demos was doing. His ruminations ceased suddenly as he reached the open door of Demos' office. It was scarcely worthy of the name; just a small room with a roughly woven rug and a low table piled with scrolls and writing equipment. His own office, in Aristhenes' house, had been larger and better equipped.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Strip." Demos gestured impatiently for him to close the door.

Heart pounding, Zev considered running for the hills, but he'd never learnt how to hunt, or fend for himself. He wouldn't last a week in the harsh countryside in this area. Gods, he'd be hunted down within the hour, most like, and at the very least be severely beaten for his pains. His hands trembling, he untied his belt and dragged his chiton over his head.

"Huh. You're hairier than a goat." Demos inspected him critically, as though he hadn't seen Zev naked the day he bought him in the slave market. And most days since then, when the slaves washed themselves, out behind the house. "Disgusting. Bend over."

Zev was shaking with the effort it took not to run anyway. Despite what he'd said to Elis, he'd never been particularly disturbed by the penchant Greek men seemed to have for fucking each other. He'd spent most of his life in a Greek household, and it had been going on all around him, but as Aristhenes' favourite, none of the men had ever dared to force him, and he'd never had any inclination to participate.

He'd known, of course, that the situation was unlikely to continue after Aristhenes' death, and had determined at least to suffer his fate with whatever dignity was possible. The sharp pang of pleasure he'd felt when Elis touched him had shattered everything he believed to be true about himself. Even now, he could barely think of it without trembling. He did not desire men, and never had - yet the thought of Elis touching him again was enough to make him weak with desire. Imagining Demos' touch had an entirely different effect.

Taking a deep breath, he turned and bent over, clasping his hands around his knees. That was what the other men had told him to do. He felt somewhat ridiculous in that position, and almost laughed - hysteria again, no doubt - but the rough poking of a calloused finger in his arse was enough to remove any humorous impulse. He clenched his teeth and tried desperately not to do the same with his buttocks. Demos was unlikely to be as considerate as Elis had been.

Oh God, he wished he was in Elis' bed right now.

A hand snaked between his legs and grasped his cock in a vicious grip. Taken by surprise, Zev cried out and tried to jerk away. He received a blow across the side of his head for that and, off balance as he was, he stumbled against the wall and fell.

"Get up." Demos stood over him, his face furious. "You hairy, gods forsaken, worthless piece of goat turd... by all the gods, I'll show you how to serve your master."

"You're not my master and never will be." Zev staggered to his feet, aghast at his own stupidity, but too angry to care very much. Maybe Demos would prefer to beat him rather than fuck him. Or maybe he'd just do both.

For a fat, middle-aged man, Demos could move fast. He had Zev by the throat and up against the wall before Zev had time to evade him. He banged Zev's head against it a couple of times just hard enough to daze him, then shoved him to his knees.

"Open your mouth, little turd. I have a use for it." Demos lifted his chiton to demonstrate his meaning. As if there'd ever been any doubt.

Zev wondered whether he'd reached the point yet where he had nothing left to lose, and decided that maybe he had. "Put that anywhere near my mouth and I'll chew it off and spit it out."

For a moment he thought Demos might drop dead of a burst blood vessel, so purple with rage was he. But no such luck. Another blow sent him sprawling on his back and then Demos drew back his foot and kicked him in the side.

It hurt like fuck. Zev tried to curl up, to protect himself, but the expected blows never fell. Instead, Elis' voice, sounding like one of Zeus' thunderbolts, demanded to know what in Hades was going on.

Zev opened his eyes to see Elis bending over him, his face murderous. He flinched back instinctively. Elis straightened and turned. "Get out. Take your miserable belongings and leave. If you're still on my lands by noon, I'll kill you."

He wanted to protest that he couldn't stand, let alone walk out of here. And then he realised it was  _Demos_  that Elis had threatened. He dragged in a shuddering breath and then gasped. The fat bastard had cracked one of his ribs. Maybe more than one.

Elis was bending over him again, the anger blending into concern. "Lie still for a moment. You're safe now."

* * *

In later years, Elis was prone to grumble about how, within weeks of Zev's arrival in his household, that same household had been turned completely upside down. At the time, however, he was only aware of a strange sense of satisfaction that his newest slave was safely ensconced in his bed, sleeping with the aid of opium mixed with wine. He found himself hovering, quite unnecessarily, and with a resigned shrug sat on the edge of the bed to watch Zev's sleeping face. The bruise was darkening rapidly across his temple and cheekbone.

Elis would have been within his rights to thrash Demos for damaging his property, but the sight of him standing over Zev's naked, crumpled body had fuelled a murderous rage in him that a mere beating would not begin to satisfy. It was better just to get rid of the old lecher - a pity, because Demos had been a competent scribe and overseer, but Elis knew he would not be able to tolerate the man within his sight.

He cursed himself, not for the first time, for not speaking directly to Demos regarding Zev. For not warning him off when he'd decided not to order Zev to his room again the following day. The old goat had been impatient enough to interpret his consideration for a slave's feelings as disinterest, and why not? When did any freeborn citizen concern himself with such things? Slaves were property, tools to be used and discarded when they were no longer needed. This infatuation he felt for Zev was madness and yet he could not bring himself to question it any longer. Some things just were.

A quiet sigh brought Elis out of his distracted thoughts, and he saw that Zev's eyes were open, though somewhat dazed. He laid his hand briefly against the slave's unbruised cheek and smiled reassuringly. "Rest easy. You're safe."

Zev nodded tentatively, and flinched a little. No doubt he had a ferocious headache. "I'm sorry."

"For what? Costing me a good overseer?" Elis smiled gently. "You'll have to think how you can make that up to me."

"I can read and write. And cipher." Zev offered, then blushed. "That wasn't what you meant."

Elis chuckled at the slave's confusion. "No, but I'll take whatever services you're willing to provide."

"I... uh..." His blush deepened considerably and the blue eyes glanced away uncertainly. "I'll do whatever you ask of me."

"Because you want to?" Elis waited, sure that he did not want Zev in his bed if he was less than completely willing to be there.

"Because I... want to. Need to." Suddenly the ceiling seemed to be of intense interest.

Elis sighed. "Is that so terrible?"

"No," Zev whispered. "Just... I feel... with you, I feel..."

"Like you're standing on the edge of a precipice?" Elis supplied helpfully. "And only the gods know what will happen if you step forward, yet you cannot step back, or stay where you are."

Zev's eyes widened and he pushed himself up, reaching for Elis, wrapping both arms around his neck and hanging on until Elis recovered the presence of mind to support him. He laid his hands flat on Zev's back, feeling the rapid stutter of his heartbeat. The same as the panicked sound that had drawn him downstairs to Demos' office. No matter that it was impossible for him to hear any such thing.

"I don't understand." Zev's voice was choked, difficult to understand. "How can this be happening? I've never looked at a man, never wanted... and now I cannot imagine not wanting you." He raised his head and met Elis' eyes, then kissed him softly on the lips. "I cannot imagine not wanting  _this_. How can it be?"

Elis returned the kiss. "Some things just  _are_."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Historical Notes:
> 
> The biblical quotation is from Leviticus 20:13
> 
> A chiton was the basic clothing worn by both men and women, though the men's form was shorter - around knee length. It was made from two rectangles of cloth as wide as a person's outstretched arms, sewn down both sides with a gap at the top for the arms. The tops were pinned or stitched at the shoulders and then a belt was tied at the waist and the cloth hitched up so the top half hung loosely.
> 
> Concubine - in Jewish law, a concubine was closer to being a "second-class" wife or common law wife than a mistress. The children of a concubine were acknowledged and expected to share in their father's inheritance, the same as the children of the primary wife.
> 
> Ganymede - a beautiful youth kidnapped and seduced by Zeus, king of the gods.


End file.
